


But Between The Drinks And Subtle Things

by IsabelArmuelles



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Kinda Fluffy, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Restaurants and kitchens, Strangers to Friends to Lovers (but not really), True meet-cute is fighting over a bottle of alcohol and then drinking it together, it is what it is, they talk about their problems because life is shitty, this is for Kunyang nation mwah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23111059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsabelArmuelles/pseuds/IsabelArmuelles
Summary: Kun has never been very keen on the idea of drinking until he passes out just to ignore his problems, but sometimes a nice bottle of alcohol seems like the best option to unwind after a long, stressful day at work. Doing it alone doesn’t seem appealing at all, so he takes up a stranger’s offer to drink together.
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Qian Kun
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	But Between The Drinks And Subtle Things

**Author's Note:**

> First fic of the year lessgeddit!!!
> 
> This one’s for Lou, one of the most amazing friends I could ever ask for<3 I’m so glad I met you and I hope we can be friends for a long time :D happy birthday babe!!!
> 
> Enjoy!

Kun has never been very keen on the idea of drinking until he passes out just to ignore his problems, but sometimes a nice bottle of alcohol seems like the best option to unwind after a long, stressful day at work. He is sure his liver will eventually complain and karma will whoop his ass, but in the meantime, he is willing to go get that one extra-large bottle of grapefruit soju that has been calling out to him since the week started.

Work, as usual, is a nightmare, especially if you work in the food industry. He knows he can't really complain, since he is the best paid out of everyone in the restaurant (being the manager really does have its perks, he only needs one job to keep his bills paid and has a bit of money to put into his savings), but the workload is draining and having to keep a staff of over twenty people in tip-top shape can really take a toll on one's sanity.

Especially if you have new hires that need training and don't seem to completely grasp the concept of 'the plate is hot, please use the food tray, don't grab things with your bare hands'. Kun has been dealing with an ongoing headache because of this, alongside all the bandaged hands and broken plates that just seemed to keep on coming throughout the week.

At least one of the new hires seemed to have his shit together, or at least as together as it gets. Kun makes a mental note to get this Renjun kid a small gift, like a chocolate or something, for not contributing to his migraine and premature gray hairs. 

Once his shift ends and he closes the restaurant for the day, his feet immediately carry him to the nearest convenience store, as if they have a mind and work on their own. Kun exhales loudly as he pushes the door open, the small bell attached to it clinking a bit too loudly for comfort. Still, Kun tries to conceal his grimace and walks in, throwing a small greeting at the girl behind the counter and making a beeline for the alcohol bottles.

Sadly, they don't have many bottles on display. The few brands of alcohol stare back at him mockingly, and he purses his lips, debating on whether he should just grab any bottle and hope that the drink is enough to knock him out or just go to another store and hope they have more variety.

He quickly discards the latter option. He's too tired and lazy for that.

Kun scans the display and notices that his favorite soju isn't even an option here. They have the regular kind, but it doesn't seem as appetizing as an artificially fruit flavored alcoholic drink to him. There's also beer, but he hates that shit, it's too bitter and leaves the aftertaste of moldy bread in his mouth. Rum seems like a good option, maybe some cheap wine or-

Oh. That seems like the perfect choice. His eyes stop on the last bottle of apple flavored vodka, a one-liter bottle to be exact, and his brain says 'yes, that one. That one's good.' Kun doesn't need to be told twice before he is taking a few steps towards the bottle, reaching out his hand and grabbing...

Another hand?

He snaps his head up to look at the owner of said hand and comes face to face with a disgruntled looking boy. He quickly releases the other's hand and takes a step back.

"Uh..."

"The bottle is mine. I need it." The boy says, tone neutral and face expressionless. The more Kun looks at him, the more poker faced he gets.

"What? No, it's not. I saw it first." Kun counters back, frowning at the alcohol thief. If this kid thinks Kun will willingly give away his best option to get properly smashed, then he has a big storm coming his way. Kun reaches out and tries to take the bottle out of the display, but his hand gets smacked away. He stares at the boy in shock.

"I saw it first, you were just standing in front of the display and mumbling to yourself." The boy counters back, reaching for the bottle this time. Kun takes a page out of his book and slaps his hand away. The boy turns to glare at him.

"I reached for it first, and I need it more than you do." It's probably the most immature thing Kun has said in the past five years, but he stands his ground and stares at the boy defiantly.

The boy merely snorts at Kun's words. "I doubt it. What are you gonna do, go drink with your girlfriend while having a romantic night in? Take it as a gift for your friends when you go over to hangout and drink in good company? Well some of us are stressed, lonely and depressed and need a good bottle of alcohol to get by." He finishes his little rant by crossing his arms over his chest, as if that would help to make his point valid.

Kun stares at him, blinks once, twice, before reaching for the bottle and snatching it for himself. "Your statement was so fucking wrong I now have all the rights to take this bottle with me."

"Hey!" The boy exclaims, trying to reach for the bottle. Kun moves out of his way and keeps a distance between them, smiling triumphantly when the boy gives up. He barely manages to hear the small, defeated "damn it" that comes out of his pouty lips.

"I too am stressed, lonely and depressed, and I really need to get drunk enough to forget all the bullshit that went down at work this week." Kun tries to explain, not sure on why he's deciding to give this type of information to a complete stranger. He gives one good look at the boy, from his beat-up vans and baggy clothes to his messy hair and eyebags, and adds, "I also don't think you're old enough to drink any type of alcoholic beverage."

The boy looks at him like Kun just insulted his mother. "I'm legal! What the fuck!"

Kun raises a brow. "You look fifteen."

"I'm twenty!" He flails his arms around, clearly not seeing the teasing smile on Kun's face. The boy amuses him, and all this bickering has somehow made him forget that he actually wanted to get passed out drunk to avoid his problems. His liver thanks the stranger.

"Tell you what; if you let me take this bottle you can grab anything you want and I'll pay for it." Kun offers, efficiently making the other seize his whining. The boy scrunches his nose and considers the option, eyeing the rest of the alcohol bottles. After a few seconds, he finally nods.

"Fine."

He ends up taking a fairly large wine cooler, cradling it against his chest like a newborn baby. It makes Kun smile, and he hides it by turning around and marching towards the counter, where the girl from before eyes them both with curious eyes. Kun feels heat rush to his cheeks as he realizes that she probably witnessed the whole exchange, and that she saw his grown ass act like a whiny five-year-old.

Thankfully, she doesn't say anything, just scans their items and asks the boy for his ID (Kun laughs at that, earning a glare from the younger. He really wasn't kidding about being twenty years old, and Kun feels a little bit jealous at the fact that the other looks younger than he actually is). Kun decides to throw in a large bag of Doritos for good measure, to at least have something in his stomach after he downs the entire bottle.

Finally stepping out of the convenience store, Kun looks down at his bottle and bag of chips, sighing at how depressing the rest of his night is gonna be. He hears the annoying bell chime behind him and turns to look at the boy after he steps out and stands next to him.

"Hey, thanks for the bottle." The boy says, still cradling it to his chest, like it'll run away from him if he so much as loosens his grip. Kun nods absentmindedly, still throwing a pity party inside his head, that he barely misses the boy's next words, "Do you want to... drink together?"

"What?" He asks, blinking himself out of his stupor. The boy tries to avoid eye contact.

"Well, we're both sad and lonely, had a shit week, and fought over an alcohol bottle. Might as well drink and keep each other company." He reasons, fingers playing with the plastic label on his bottle. He lifts a corner of the price sticker with his nail, and then smooths it out before adding, "That is, if you want to. You don't know me so... yeah."

Kun thinks about it for a moment. He could use the company. Drinking alone while sitting on his bed and watching his old college friends' Instagram stories where they're living their best lives and having the best time ever doesn't seem appealing at all, even if that was part of his original plan, along with letting the TV on for background noise and crying himself to sleep. He internally winces at how miserable his plans were.

"Sure, why not." Kun shrugs, realizing he has nothing to lose. The boy looks at him surprised, clearly not expecting him to accept his offer. Kun takes the plastic off the cap of the bottle and opens it, taking a long sip. He coughs a little at the burning feeling the alcohol leaves at the back of his throat. "I'm Kun, by the way."

The boy's mouth turns into a little 'o' before spreading out into a blinding smile. Kun feels his night getting a little better already.

"I'm Yangyang."

~~~~~~~

"So, he just dropped the plate because it was 'too hot'? Are you serious? I would've whooped his ass right there and then, turned him into whipped cream." Yangyang voices out, mouth halfway full of Doritos as he acts out an 'ass whooping' motion, according to him.

Kun knows it's probably not that funny, but he did end up drinking an entire bottle of vodka in under an hour, so whatever comes out of Yangyang's mouth is probably the most hilarious thing ever to his tipsy self. He tries to cover his mouth as he wheezes out a laugh, but he knows all kinds of decency has already flown out the window with how loud he's been laughing with Yangyang for the past few hours in this empty park.

The younger ended up being exactly what Kun needed, some comedic relief to his stressful week. Yangyang was still a college student, a culinary arts major who apparently had a shit week thanks to all the dishes he had to present as his final projects. His dessert wasn't fluffy enough, his main course didn't have the exact seasoning his professor wanted, and he couldn't get his imported meats to grill the way he wanted them to. ("I just really wanna drop out and bake cookies 'till the day I die, you know?" "Yeah, that's fair.")

Kun wouldn't really know exactly how all that pressure in the kitchen felt, since he's only a business major who never really pursued anything that had to do with his studies and stayed at the restaurant he'd been working in since sophomore year of college. What he did know, was that the food industry was a truly hell, and that Yangyang had a lot of shit coming his way, if all of the angry yelling and stressed screeches coming from the restaurant's kitchen were anything to go by.

"You should've seen the chef's face when I had to go into the kitchen and ask her to re-make the dish. She nearly snapped my neck." Kun shudders as he recalls the memory. He's never seen so much rage contained in such a small, petite vessel.

Yangyang takes another handful of Kun's Doritos. "I would've done the same, to be honest. Maybe even broken the plate on the waiter's head."

"Remind me to throw away your curriculum and deny your entrance if I ever see you applying to the restaurant." Kun pops another Dorito into his mouth and smirks when he notices Yangyang's scandalized expression.

"How dare you! I would be a wonderful chef if I worked at... uh..."

"It's that one Chinese-American fusion restaurant a few blocks from here."

Yangyang frowns. "On second thought, catch me applying to anywhere else but there."

Kun snorts. "Yeah, I get it. Every day I feel another part of me die whenever someone attempts to pronounce the Chinese dishes and asks for 'more ketchup' on their food."

"Oh god. Disgusting. The mental image is just-" Yangyang turns to the side and dry heaves, sticking a finger into his mouth for extra effect. Kun nods solemnly. "I can't believe you work like that."

"Well, it's my fault, so I'm not really allowed to complain. I started working there since my second year of college, and as I escalated positions I decided that I might as well just stay there, so my grades were mediocre at best during my remaining years." Kun rests his chin on his hand, getting more comfortable on the park bench he's sitting in. "Now I realize that that was a huge mistake, because no one would want to hire me and this stupid job is all I have left."

Yangyang hums, wiggling around to sit crisscross applesauce on the bench, one of his knees resting on top of Kun's thing. Kun just lets it be. "That sucks."

"Yeah."

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound that disturbs their 3 a.m. peace being the rustling of the Doritos bag and the munching of the chips.

Kun feels strangely at ease in Yangyang's presence, nothing like his usual frantic day to day. Being manager of the restaurant means he has to go in at least an hour before opening time and leave after everyone else has cleaned and closed up for the day. He works six days a week because luckily the place is closed on Sundays, and has to deal with extra paperwork, kitchen disasters, and lousy waiters. 

All of this leaves him with no actual time for himself, other than the few hours he has from the moment he wakes up to the moment he has to go to work, and even then, his co-workers call him for the dumbest shit, like asking for permission to have someone else cover their shift or giving half-assed excuses for being late.

Yangyang's goofy nature and chill demeanor feels like a breath of fresh air, like taking a few years off his back and actually being able to act like the twenty-four-year-old he is. No stressful job, no crippling depression, no thoughts of being and feeling lonely. Just two guys in their twenties, drinking and joking around.

The younger reaches for the bag of Doritos again and whines when he realizes it's already empty. Kun smiles, watching amused as Yangyang starts trying to collect the remaining dust from the bag onto one finger just to lick it off.

"Are you hungry?"

Yangyang sighs defeated, wiping his fingers off on his pants and deciding on playing with the empty bag instead. "Yeah, drinking usually makes me hungry."

"Wanna come over to mine? I can make you some ramen and hope you give it at least a six out of ten, mister pro chef." Kun offers, trying to check the time on his phone. The numbers look a little blurry, but at least he can still make them out. It's pretty fucking late.

"I'm a shit chef right now, just ask my professors." Yangyang grumbles, twisting the bag between his hands and then smoothing it out. He frowns. "Also, do you really think you're making a good decision by inviting me to your place? You met me like three hours ago."

Kun shrugs. "I bought you alcohol and spent three hours pouring my heart out to you, I think we're past that 'stranger danger' phase." He looks over at Yangyang and pokes him in the arm, earning him a drunken hand swat. "Also, your entire torso is the size of my thigh. What are you gonna do? Rob me? I can body slam you any day of the week."

Yangyang looks offended, but soon enough he purses his lips and nods, agreeing. "Fair enough. But don't try to shake me up right now, I don't want that wine cooler and those Doritos having a rave in my tummy."

Attempting to stand up from the bench and miraculously succeeding after the first try, Kun extends a hand for Yangyang to take and holds his empty vodka bottle in the other, ready to discard in the nearest trashcan. Yangyang shakily accepts the hand and pulls himself up, nearly faceplanting if it weren't for Kun holding him.

"God, I think one of my legs fell asleep." Yangyang complains, stomping his foot and shaking his leg to get the blood flowing again. Kun huffs a laugh and leaves him be, taking Yangyang's trash and walking a couple of meters to throw away their bottles and empty bag.

He turns back around to find the younger doing some kind of stanky leg chicken dance, tongue sticking out in concentration as he wiggles around to wake his leg up. It's as silly as it is endearing, so Kun laughs at him before walking over to help Yangyang walk and not faceplant.

It isn't until they're a few blocks from Kun's apartment that Yangyang stops in his tracks, eyes hazy and unfocused, and blurts out, "You know, I just realized. I don't even fucking like Doritos."

Kun laughs so hard he ends up rolling on the floor, even if the pavement is all dirty and Yangyang whines that he's being too loud at ass o'clock in the morning. He's not sorry for it.

~~~~~~~

Kun's apartment is, for the lack of better words, an absolute shithole.

It seemed like a better option than the dorms he lived in during his freshman year, so once he began working and earned enough money to rent it out, he moved in without second thoughts.

Now, he realizes it was a mistake, since the dorm life would've been a better option for meeting new people and making more friends, and also because the slight happiness he felt when he first moved in completely faded once he realized what kind of hellhole he hand ended up in. The floors creak way too much, most doors look like they're about to fall off their hinges, the ceiling is stained with very questionable brown marks, he has never been able to get the hot water to work, his neighbors fight so loudly Kun's shitty TV can't even drone out all the noise, and even after trying to decorate and tidy up, it still feels like living in the bottom of an industrial sized trash bin.

Yangyang doesn't mind it, or at least he doesn't say anything after Kun invites him in. He politely takes off his shoes and waddles behind Kun in his Keroppi sock-clad feet, looking just as buzzed as Kun feels.

Kun's kitchen is tiny, and it doesn't have a lot of space for two people to be in at the same time, so Kun offers to pull out a chair for Yangyang to sit at the entrance of the kitchen. The younger accepts, and does some kind of weird leg pretzel pose on top of the chair to get comfortable. Kun silently hopes he didn't accidentally give his companion the bad chair with the little spring poking out of the cushion.

"Can I have some water, please?"

Kun pours a tall glass for Yangyang before going over to his pantry and pulling out some ramen packets, along with some extra spices to add flavor to their sad excuse of a meal. Yangyang sits silently, taking a few sips of water before looking around the kitchen.

"I like your apartment." He voices out, and Kun fight back the urge to scoff. He gives Yangyang a pointed stare, and the younger pouts. "I'm serious!"

"Cut the crap. Anyone and their mother can see this place looks terribly depressing." Kun sighs, going over to the fridge and pulling out some veggies and two eggs for the ramen. He doesn't have any meat to add onto it, so he hopes the extra veggies will make up for it.

"It's not that bad. You live alone and seem to be fairly good at taking care of yourself and handling the adulting thing, so it's better than having nothing." Kun can't really fight with that logic, so he hums and focuses on making the ramen, letting Yangyang carry the torch with their conversation. "Besides, at least you don't have two other roommates who are dating each other and live up to the 'art majors are freaky and horny fuckers' stereotype."

"You're technically an art major. Cooking is an art." Kun counters back, glancing over his shoulder to see the scrunched up expression of disgust Yangyang sports on his face. Kun huffs out a laugh.

"Never say something like that to me ever again. Cooking is crying while maneuvering hot pans around a busy kitchen and having tomato sauce staining your sleeves and maybe even your nightmares." Yangyang manages to let out with a straight face, very much like the one he had on when he told Kun he needed, - not wanted, but needed, - the bottle of vodka Kun had very much drank already. Kun laughs at him.

"That bad, huh?"

"I want to drop out, god." Kun doesn't even know if Yangyang is joking or not at this point. He stirs the noodles inside the pot.

"Why did you end up studying that, anyway?" Kun asks, halting his cooking in favor of turning to Yangyang, a small action to let him know that's he's listening to him. Yangyang eyes the chopped veggies, eyes glazed over, probably from the booze and the pent-up feelings he's clearly struggling to express.

He stays silent for a few minutes, and Kun manages to throw the veggies into the mix and plate their ramen, eggs included, before Yangyang is finally speaking up.

"I... don't know. I guess I thought it would be easy, and I didn't have any other passions besides cooking for my mom and baking sweet things for my friends at school. I didn't know what I wanted to study, so I applied to the only thing I knew I was good at, and I guess it stuck." Yangyang explains, taking the last gulp of water from the cup and standing up to place it on the sink. Kun turns his head to look at the younger, who stands beside him with a frown on his face. "Clearly that didn't make me happy. I've been struggling since day one, and it bugs me because the only thing that used to make me happy, feels like a chore."

Yangyang doesn't say anything after that, just returns to his chair and stays silent, a pensive look of his face. Kun lets him be, only asking for help with carrying their bowls into the living room and setting them in front of the coffee table. They sit on the floor and dig in, slurping sounds filling in the quiet.

Kun can somehow relate with Yangyang. He hadn’t actually wanted to study business, nor was he good at it, but it was something his parents pushed him to do, and he ended up studying it for the lack of better option. He thought it'd be easy, or at least manageable, but every project and test felt like an obligation rather than an important step to reaching a goal. Dropping out was completely out of the question (he genuinely didn't want to feel his mother's wrath if she so much as caught wind that Kun was even thinking about it), but it crossed his mind a lot, even more so after he started working at the restaurant.

Yangyang allowed his chopsticks to noisily clunk against the edge of the bowl once he had finished his food. "You were wrong."

"What?"

"This ramen was at least an eight out of ten, not the six you mentioned earlier."

Kun snorts, shoving Yangyang with his shoulder gently before finishing his own ramen. He decides to leave the bowls on the table for the time being and turns to the younger.

"How are you feeling?"

Yangyang shrugs. "Not as tipsy as before, sadly."

"I don't have any alcohol here, sorry."

"It's okay, I'm glad I'm sobering up so I can keep talking to you." Yangyang muses, playing with the chopsticks inside his empty bowl, flicking them around and letting them clunk against the borders. He scrunches his nose a little, clearly thinking about something. Kun lets him take his time, since the air between them is not uncomfortable at all. Yangyang speaks up after a couple of minutes. "Have you ever considered, just... quitting? Doing something completely different."

Kun tilts his head, confused. "What do you mean?"

One of the chopsticks clanks against the bowl and Yangyang retrieves his hand, turning to look at Kun. "You're unhappy with your job. And, from what you've told me, you're just unhappy in general. What if you quit? What if- what if you do something completely different? If you change your routine unexpectedly?"

"Can't say it hasn't crossed my mind."

"Then why don't you do it?" Yangyang looks at him expectantly, staring at him dead on. Kun shifts in his seat.

"You know it's not that easy, Yangyang." The younger shakes his head aggressively, eyes sparkling with something. Kun has a feeling he knows what's coming. "What are you thinking about?"

"Look, I know it's crazy, but it just suddenly came to me. What if we use each other as a way out?" Kun gives him an incredulous stare. "Hear me out. You studied business so you probably know how all that shit works, and you've been a manager for an entire restaurant for fuck knows how long. You can easily run your own business. You know how the food industry works."

Yangyang moves around and stands up, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet as his excitement grows. Kun quietly watches him, enjoying the light in the younger's eyes he hadn't witnessed since he met him.

"On the other hand, you clearly need someone to make the food, and you need the artistic input from someone who knows their shit. The business needs captivating publicity, loads of yummy food that attracts costumers, and nice decorations that make people want to stay there a little longer." He jabs a thumb at himself and smiles brightly. "I'm your guy for that!"

Kun chuckles. "So, you're saying I should drop everything and start a business with someone I met a few hours ago?"

Yangyang's smile falters a bit, but it comes back even stronger as he nods rapidly, hair bouncing everywhere. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying."

"I think," Kun starts, standing up from the coffee table and picking up the soup bowls, "you should really go to sleep right now."

"What! No!"

"It's late, Yangyang. You're probably gonna have to stay over."

Yangyang runs a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. "So, you're just going to dismiss my entire idea? Just like that?"

Kun turns away from the younger and walks to the kitchen, leaving both bowls inside the sink. He can clearly hear the pitter patter of Yangyang's feet trailing behind him and can feel the younger's eyes on him as he cleans the bowls.

"Stop looking at me like that." Kun scolds, drying his hands with a rag and placing it back on its hook on the wall. Yangyang looks away guilty after Kun makes eye contact with him, feeling bad for getting caught glaring. "I'm not dismissing your idea; I just want to sleep on it and talk about it with you tomorrow morning. That is, if you're still here by the time I wake up and haven't run off."

Yangyang cracks a smile. "Don't worry, I won't be your one-night drinking buddy."

"Good." Kun smiles back. "Now, bed or couch?"

~~~~~~~

Kun cracks open the bottle he secretly bought for this specific occasion, the sound catching Yangyang's attention.

"Is that..."

"The apple flavored vodka bottle we fought over when we first met?" He says, taking a sip and handing it over to Yangyang. "Maybe."

Yangyang snorts, gladly taking the bottle and taking a huge gulp instead. He grimaces at the burning feeling it leaves on his throat. "Can't believe your plan is to drink the day before our grand opening. And inside our own cafe, no less."

Kun snatches the bottle back, takes a swing, and sticks his tongue out at the younger. "It's only one bottle for the both of us, we obviously can't get shitfaced. I just thought we could celebrate with something memorable. It's been, what, like a year since we met each other?"

"Something like that."

The cafe was rather small, but they luckily managed to get a nice spot in a busy street, where lots of people could stop by whenever they pleased and get one of Yangyang's delicious pastries. After planning and working on Yangyang’s crazy idea for nearly a whole year, they were finally here, sitting cozily in one of the booths of their own little cafe, one day before opening day, sharing a drink.

Yangyang was right, in some way. Doing something completely different did feel liberating. Quitting his job at the restaurant to fully focus on making his own business work was easily one of the best decisions Kun had ever made. He managed to convince the younger not to drop out, and to use his major at his advantage, so in the end Yangyang pulled through and was only months away from graduating, already a business owner and a brilliant baker.

It was quite the hassle, and some days he felt like dropping the whole thing and crawling back to the restaurant, hoping they would take him back, but the permanent smile the younger had whenever they talked about his crazy idea seemed like reason enough to stay and go through all the hardships of starting a business.

The cafe's social media accounts had a nice following, and Yangyang tried to update them every day, constantly interacting with potential customers and yapping about how everyone should come and try their food and drinks once they opened.

Kun turns to look at the unruly mop of orange hair beside him. Yangyang seems to be deep in thought, clutching the bottle to his chest like a baby. Kun smiles.

"Something on your mind?"

Yangyang tilts his head down to look at the bottle, one of his nails scratching the label. "It's finally happening. We're opening tomorrow."

"We are."

"I'm scared." He whispers, grip tightening on the bottle. Kun slowly pries it away from the younger's hands, closing it and placing it on top of the table. He takes Yangyang's hands between his and gives them a small squeeze. "I don't want this to flop, this is the happiest I've been in years."

"I can't promise it won't, nothing is certain." Kun pulls Yangyang closer, wrapping him in a comforting hug and letting him rest his head on Kun's shoulder. "But I do know that hard work pays off, and all the effort you put into this cafe won't go unnoticed. We're gonna make this work, Yangyang."

The smile he gets in return is beautifully blinding.

About an hour later, when the bottle is empty and the street outside is mostly deserted, Kun realizes that Yangyang is halfway on his lap, completely snuggled up against him as he scrolls through the cafe's Instagram. Yangyang's hair tickles his cheek, and he can see the way the younger scrunches up his nose adorably at some of the notifications.

This really is the happiest he's ever been in years; he knows he shares that sentiment with Yangyang. Kun feels a mixture of excitement and anxiety at the pit of his stomach, not knowing what tomorrow may bring.

But he knows that here, with the boy he met by luck, the mastermind behind this whole plan comfortably sitting beside him, he is truly the happiest.

He is almost certain he won't ever need to drink his problems away anymore.

His liver thanks Yangyang.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to the birthday babe (@sunnyjohnnys on twt) for beta-ing this entire thing and fixing my crappy grammar (and for pointing out that Yangyang is tiny and gay and Kun is THICC)
> 
> Talk to me on twt @IsabelArmuelles and join the Kunyang nation xoxo
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
